I'll Make a Wish and Hold Your Hand
by Ambereyedwolfchild
Summary: Stiles and Derek watch the stars like Stiles used to with his mom as a kid. Stars fall and suns rise; hands are held and maybe a few wishes come true. Sterek. Complete. Fluff, all the fluff and a hell of a lot of gratuitous cuddling.


**I'll Make a Wish and Hold Your Hand**

Stiles loved stargazing. When he was young his mom had painted the sky onto his bedroom ceiling, constellations mapped out perfectly and neatly, exactly the way they had lay in the sky when Stiles was born. Eventually they'd faded to tiny dots and had been painted over, but not before Stiles had committed them to memory. When he was nine he'd gotten a telescope for his birthday, and he'd loved it, spending the long nights while his dad was working with his mom in the yard- their telescopes pointed up while she ran her fingers through his hair and told him the fantastical stories behind each constellation. By the time he was ten he could search them out and name them, listing each star that composed it just to see his mom's proud smile. The night she'd died the stars seemed a little dimmer.

He couldn't quite believe that it had been seven years since he'd lost her, but here he was- eighteen and all grown up, ready for his own adventures just like the ones she'd tell him about on nights like these, when the stars were bright and beautiful in the sky. A knock at the door broke him out of his maudlin mood and he jumped up, grateful for the interruption. Once he _started _thinking too much about his mom and how much he missed her it tended to get overwhelming _fast_ and it had been two years and counting since his last panic attack- a record he wasn't keen to break. The older he got, the more he understood his dad's need to work double shifts on the anniversary of his wife's death, keeping himself busy meant that the grief never got a chance to take hold. He wasn't actually sure who he'd expected to be behind the door- though God knows he didn't care, he'd talk to anyone right now- but he _wasn't _expecting who it was.

Derek was hardly an unusual fixture in the Stilinski house now, he'd managed to kick his habit of coming in through the window and using the front door instead- Stiles was shocked too- to join the Stilinskis on game days and for takeaway night until it was normal for the Sheriff to come home three or four nights out of seven to find Derek and Stiles vegged out on the couch, controllers or popcorn in hand as they attempted to thrash each other at their video game of the week or finish their latest movie marathon, all the while bickering like an old married couple.

Despite the fact that he might as well have his own key by now, Derek looked awkward and out of place on the doormat, hands tucked into his jacket pockets in a nervous gesture that Stiles hadn't seen in a while. "Hey, Der." Stiles greeted, attempting to smoothly cover his surprise though he wasn't sure he'd succeed. "Here for me to kick your ass at Halo?"

Derek huffed a soft laugh, a little of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Not tonight. I'll kick your ass tomorrow. I kinda had another idea for tonight? If you want." There was a questioning note in his voice that confused Stiles for the split second before he realised that that tone of voice meant that Derek knew exactly what day it was. The last thing Stiles wanted was a pity party but he also absolutely did _not _want to sit at home and stew over how much he missed his mom. After a brief hesitation he nodded, stepping aside to let Derek in. "Sure. What's the plan, Stan?"

Derek shook his head, lips quirking up a little in amusement. "It's a surprise. Grab your shoes." Stiles blinked at him in baffled confusion before grabbing his sneakers and sitting on the doorstep to lace them up, interest thoroughly piqued now. He bounced to his feet, watching a silent Derek move over to the Camaro.

"I thought we'd progressed past the days when you didn't know how to use your words." Stiles grumbled to himself, hearing Derek laugh behind him as he locked up the house and jogged over to the passenger seat.

It was pitch black but for the Camaro's headlamps but once you were friends with the 'monsters' it was pretty difficult to be scared of the dark. The dark didn't help Stiles keep his bearings though and after a handful of turns he had absolutely no idea where they were going, no matter how much he peered out of the window. He didn't even bother trying to pester Derek into telling him, just sat in comfortable silence, knee bouncing to the beat of the song stuck in his head.

The fidgeting didn't seem to bother Derek- or maybe he was just used to it- as the Alpha didn't react in the slightest as he turned the Camaro onto a thin dirt track. When they stopped, Stiles peered around, seeing nothing but trees down the slope of the hill they were parked atop. "Did you bring me somewhere secluded to murder and eat me?" He asked sceptically, getting out of the car as Derek did. He didn't need to see the older man's face to know he'd rolled his eyes, that was his 'shut up, Stiles' sigh.

"No. Shut up, Stiles." He deadpanned, that same unamused tone that was definitely Derek-speak for 'Stiles is hilarious but I'm too grouchy to admit it', Stiles was sure of it. Stiles grinned, wrapping his arms around himself, the night air brisker than he expected on his skin and he kinda wished he'd had the forethought to bring a jacket or hoodie or something. Before he could ask what the fuck they were doing on a hill, the lights of Beacon Hills flickering in the distance- starting to fade as people headed off to bed, Derek hopped up onto the hood of the Camaro. "C'mere. And still shut up. I can practically hear you thinking. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Stiles trudged over, sitting on the hood next to Derek with an unimpressed glare. "Only if you promise not to hurt yourself on that razor sharp wit." He paused for a moment before leaning towards Derek almost unconsciously, a little to shelter from the wind and a little because the dude was like a space heater and Stiles couldn't help himself. "What are we doing?" He asked, voice softer now, everything seeming a little too loud in the silence.

Derek checked the time, lips quirking up into a small smirk. "Waiting." He looked over as Stiles' tiny shivers caught his attention, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Why didn't you put a hoodie on, idiot?" Before Stiles could snark back that he didn't realise they were going to the middle of fuck-ass nowhere, Derek shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it around Stiles' shoulders.

"Hey, what- no." Stiles protested, not that he actually wanted to give the jacket back. Like ever. It felt like a hug, he totally got why Derek wore it all the time. "You'll get cold."

"Werewolf." Derek rolled his eyes, staring Stiles down until the younger man caved- and it didn't take much- and slid his arms into the sleeves. The fact that that was even a valid argument said volumes about Stiles' life, seriously. "We're not as fragile as you humans. We don't get ill from a breeze. Lay down."

The command seemed incongruous on the end of the teasing insult and Stiles shot Derek a glare as the wolf lay down, stretching out and looking up at the sky. "Shut up, we're awesome, not fragile." Stiles grumbled, but he lay down next to Derek anyway, maybe snuggling into the jacket a little but it was warm and smelled pretty damn awesome and nobody could prove it anyway.

The stars were clear and bright above them and Stiles bit his lip as his eyes flicked over familiar constellations, mentally naming each of the stars as he waited for Derek to say whatever it was that was on his mind. Stiles could practically feel the words buzzing around the Alpha's head, the man seeming tense where their arms were practically touching on the cool metal of the car's hood. Stiles was deathly curious, as Stiles always was, but he'd learned the long slow way that if Derek had something to say then there was absolutely no hurrying him- no pestering on Stiles' behalf would get him to spit it out any faster. It infuriated Stiles to no end, but he supposed it was worth it for the warm and fuzzies when Derek swallowed his trust issues and shared something. Not to mention Stiles got kind of embarrassingly happy whenever Derek shared something a little easier.

"I know it's your mom's-" Derek started, eyes fixed on the sky as he faltered, checking the time again almost compulsively. "I know what day it is." The reminder sent a familiar pang of pain through Stiles and he closed his eyes for a moment. It wasn't that he forgot, or that he ignored it. It was more that he could, for a while, pretend he was okay with it if not for the reminders. Stiles jumped, heart in his throat and eyes snapping open, as warm fingers brushed over the back of his hand. He looked across, meeting Derek's slightly concerned eyes, a maelstrom of emotions swirling behind them but not a hint of pity to be found. He tapped his fingers against Derek's palm, a silent 'I'm okay' because Stiles couldn't be sure that his voice wouldn't shake if he tried to speak.

"I know what day it is." Derek repeated, a little more sure now, and he looked back up at the sky. His fingers dragged down Stiles' palm and between his own long fingers, twining them together until they were pressed together, palm to palm and wrist to wrist. The movement was slow and too casual- the smoothness betraying the truth, that Derek was nervous about it. In a strange way that soothed Stiles' own nerves and he tightened his grip as the wolf kept talking. "And I know you usually spend it alone. I thought you might like some company."

One more glance at the time and Derek squeezed his hand, nodding towards the sky. "I know you're into stargazing," he hesitated for a split second before shrugging, "or at least I assumed so from all the astronomy crap scattered around your room. And so I thought maybe we could… honour her together or something. I don't know." Derek shrugged, almost embarrassed and wow Stiles wanted to hug him because Derek being cute and thoughtful should be a felony.

Stiles swallowed past the lump in his throat, squeezing Derek's hand tightly. "Thank you. This is- I don't have words for this." He leaned over, having to roll onto his side to press his face into Derek's shoulder. "You're not allowed to be nice, you asshole." He complained, feeling Derek tense then slowly relax beside him, unlacing their fingers so he could wrap his arm around Stiles.

"I'm not done being nice yet." Derek muttered, cautiously splaying his hand over Stiles' ribs then tightening his grip when Stiles did nothing but lean into him. He was about to check the time once more when all of a sudden the need became redundant. "Look." He said softly, tapping Stiles' side to make him look up, his own eyes on Stiles' face to gauge his reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

Stiles' eyes were wide, bright and excited behind that little spark of loss and sadness. They flitted across the sky, his lips parted in surprise and the corners tilting up just slightly. Derek dragged his gaze away from the younger man, looking up at the sight he'd been waiting for.

The stars that Stiles knew so well were still shining where they dusted the inky sky, but scattered amongst them was an assortment of bright sparks that didn't belong. The meteor shower left blazing trails across the sky, slicing between constellations and rippling behind the trees at the very edge of the horizon. Stiles' shocked expression slowly drifted into a wide grin and he grabbed the hand resting over his ribs. "Make a wish. Mom says you can't watch shooting stars without making a wish."

The grin must have been contagious because it was barely seconds before Derek was grinning back, fingers tightening around Stiles' as he closed his eyes compliantly, fumbling around for a wish. Stiles didn't seem to have any such trouble, eyes falling shut instantly as he made the same wish he'd made ever since he was a kid and his mom had taught him how to make a _real _wish, lips moving fractionally as he unintentionally mouthed the words along with his thoughts.

Derek's eyes were on Stiles' but as soon as they opened, he looked up at the sky, searching for shapes that he knew were there- though honestly the only constellations Derek would ever recognise was the one he was sure he could find if he connected the moles on Stiles' cheek and throat- if only the kid stood still long enough for him to tell for sure that is.

"Stargazing was my mom's favourite hobby." Stiles said after an uncountable silence, leaning onto Derek's shoulder. "She taught me the names of all her favourites, and I taught myself the rest. We'd spend hours in the yard and she'd tell me all the stories behind them all." He chewed on his lip as he scanned the sky to find Betelgeuse, following the familiar shape down to a line of three beneath it. "Look just there. Those three in a line are Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka. They're called Orion's Belt." He trailed his finger from star to star as he named them, finishing with Bellatrix and tipping his head back onto Derek's shoulder. "Orion was a hunter. An archer, actually. Just like Allison. You'd have hated him."

Derek huffed a soft laugh at that, rolling his eyes and poking Stiles in the side where his thumb rested against the curve of his chest. "I hate you." He muttered, feeling Stiles' laughter reverberate through his hand and down his side.

Stiles' voice was still touched with laughter as he shifted, shirt riding up a little and making him shiver as his skin touched the night cooled metal. He pulled the jacket more firmly around himself, dislodging Derek's hand for a moment before automatically tugging it back onto his side, practically hearing Derek's eyebrows raise as Stiles snuggled into his side. He could raise his stupid eyebrows of judgement all he liked for all Stiles cared, he totally signed up for at least a little cuddling when he decided to be a gentlewolf and give Stiles his jacket. "Shut up, I'm educating you. You know I'm awesome."

Derek obligingly followed Stiles' pointing finger, focusing back on the stars. "That one there, that's Sirius. It's the brightest star we can see." Stiles' low, not-quite-a-whisper, voice was right in his ear, head resting on the wolf's shoulder as he chattered away. Every one of his words seemed just a little lighter, a little more of the loss and pain fading as he spoke. God knows there was no way Derek would remember any of this information, it was pouring from Stiles' lips too fast for him to keep up, leaving nothing for him to do but nod and occasionally roll his eyes at the younger man's jokes.

Eventually, though neither of them could have told how long it had been, the stories slowed, the hand Stiles had been waving wildly falling to rest on Derek's chest next to his head. The silence wasn't uncomfortable and they lay still for a few minutes that felt like they lasted for hours.

Strangely, or perhaps not, it was Derek and not Stiles who broke the peace, eyes fixed on the sky as if it was easier for him to admit things if he could pretend he was alone. "I used to come up here just once a year, on Hunter's Moon. Once we were eight years old, we were old enough to run with the others. We'd start at the house but somehow we always ended up here." He shifted fractionally, finally letting his eyes meet Stiles', throat catching a little at the way those amber eyes were fixed on him, uncharacteristically still and calm, all his focus on Derek like every word was the most important thing he'd ever heard. It wasn't a feeling Derek was used to and it was incredibly intoxicating. He felt important. It wasn't a feeling he was used to. "We'd all lie in the grass over there, " he gestured a little lamely before letting his hand fall back to his side. "Mom would tell us stories, all the fairytales that her parents told her, and uncle Pete would bring the little ones up in the car and act out the stories. " He couldn't quite keep Stiles' gaze, ducking his head to look at the hand splayed on his chest, pale skin scattered with moles and lit up by the starlight. "We'd fall asleep under the stars and wake up to watch the sunrise."

Stiles could picture it clear as day, the whole Hale pack curled up on the grass before everything went wrong and it hurt his heart. He wouldn't have been surprised in the least if there'd been an audible twinge at the sad note in Derek's voice and the way his hand twitched unconsciously, not aware as he pulled Stiles ever-so-slightly closer.

"It sounds beautiful." Stiles breathed, slow and careful not to say the wrong thing. He never wanted this moment right now to end and he'd never forgive himself if he ruined it with his big mouth. "On my mom's birthday my dad used to call me in sick and take the day off. We'd spend the whole day curled up in their bed watching old silent films. We hated them." He laughed a little, twisting to lie on his back as his arm started to go numb, still using Derek's shoulder as a pillow as he closed his eyes, basking in the moonlight and the memories flickering behind his eyelids as clear as day. "They were _awful_. My mum loved them but my dad and me just found them the most boring things ever, so we used to do our own dialogue and sound effects. It drove mom mad but she never stopped us."

Derek's soft laugh rumbled underneath Stiles and the teen's eyes flickered open for a brief moment, looking up at him as best he could before letting them close again. "Like anyone could stop you doing anything." His fingers restarted with the absent minded tapping on Stiles' ribs, mirroring his heartbeat without even realising. "Laura used to love the quiet. Silent movies, quiet classical music. Shit like that. She used to get angry at me all the time. I was _not _ a quiet kid."

Before Stiles could say anything, Derek jabbed him in the ribs. "Shut up." The teen let out a laughing yelp, and before he could talk Derek carried on talking, not giving him enough time to do more than open his mouth. "I was loud. Not _you _loud, but there are foghorns too quiet to be considered _you _loud." That made Stiles grin and he squirmed to escape Derek's poking finger.

"Stop that, you asshole." Stiles complained, grabbing Derek's hand to stop him poking at Stiles' ticklish sides. "You were telling me a story." He prompted, splaying his hand over the top of Derek's and pinning it down so that he couldn't move it. Well, he could, but he _probably _wouldn't. Derek had a terrible habit of indulging Stiles.

Derek laughed rolled his eyes, letting Stiles have his hand. Not complaining as Stiles laced their fingers together loosely. "I was. Uh, Laura used to yell at me over it, and our bedrooms were right next to each other, so I used to find the most infuriating songs I could manage and play them through the wall really quietly. Pretty much only Laura could hear and it used to drive her _crazy._" He grinned a little, flipping his hand over so they were pressed palm to palm, definitely _only _because the angle was more comfortable on his wrist.

Stiles grinned, voice slipping into something warm and happy as he shared another of the treasured stories that he'd had to keep for himself for so long. Scott had tried to listen, but he wasn't very good at listening. He was good at distracting Stiles when he needed it but Stiles was talkative. Sometimes he needed to talk, but his dad, well, his dad still got this heartbroken expression on his face whenever she came up, so that was a definite no-no.

The stories flowed a little easier with each that that they told, taking turns to stumble through the things they wanted to say, occasionally stilted and awkward but by-and-large calm and relaxed. As the stars flickered above, clouds passing through the gradually lightening sky, the stories started to turn slow and quiet as they moved from birthdays and funny tales to sadder confessions, walls broken down by the late hour.

Whispers of "I miss her" and "I'd do anything to have them back." Shared between quiet breaths. The words were followed not by platitudes and flat reassurances but by gentle squeezes to their joined hands and soft sounds of understanding.

The stories ran dry, the pair falling into silence that was anything but awkward. Even with all the supernatural hearing in the world Derek could hear nothing but calmness and peace. There were bugs flittering on the edge of his hearing range, the soft burr of distant late night traffic and the quiet rush of water bubbling just beyond the treeline. It was all nearly buried underneath the hush of Stiles' breath against his shoulder and the heart rate hammering under their joined hands.

They posed an unlikely tableau, curled together on the hood of the Camaro. Stiles seemed almost dwarfed, none of his usual lankiness visible with the way he was curled against Derek, eyes closed and face tucked into the werewolf's shoulder, one hand resting over Derek's heart and the other laced with Derek's over his own chest. Their fingers were only loosely tangled together, grip gentle but there, neither having any intention to let go. Derek's arm wrapped around Stiles, holding him close. He was tilted towards Stiles just slightly, free hand under his head, holding it off the hood that was warmed by their skin. Their breaths moved in time, eyes shut as they both dozed in and out of sleep- not willing to break the silence to go home.

Hours passed and the sky was tinged with pink as Derek finally opened his eyes, yawning and stretching as much as he could without dislodging Stiles. "Hey, wake up." He murmured, running his fingers through Stiles' hair, ruffling it up affectionately without giving it so much as a second thought.

Stiles yawned, twisting his head to the side and blinking up at Derek blearily. "M'not sleeping." He mumbled, "Just resting m'eyes." He snuggled down against Derek's shoulder again, resting his forehead against the crook of Derek's neck. "What are you waking me up for?"

Derek gave him a fond smile, because he couldn't help himself, untangling himself from Stiles so he could sit up, smile widening a little at the petulant frown he got in return. "It's not waking you up if you weren't asleep." He pointed out, sitting up and leaning against the windshield, gesturing for Stiles to sit up and join him. "The sun's coming up. You won't be able to see lying down."

Stiles stared at him for a moment before huffing and sitting up with a stretch, tugging the warm jacket around himself and shifting upright. "Budge up, I'm cold." There was a lie in there, they both knew that. Derek didn't need the skip in his heartbeat; the slight pinking of his cheeks was enough to tell him that. He didn't question it though, just rolled his eyes longsufferingly and held out his arms. Stiles gave him a grin, touch of embarrassment as carefully hidden as he could manage. "Good wolf!" He said lightly, elbowing at Derek until Stiles could curl between his legs, back curved and fitting against Derek's chest perfectly with his head tucked under Derek's chin.

Derek poked him in the side with a playful growl before stealing his hand again, tucking their hands under the jacket where it was warmer. "You're hopeless. Why do I even bother with you?"

"Because you think I'm awesome." Stiles said confidently, head falling back onto Derek's shoulder. You could say what you want about werewolves and the suckfest of danger that surrounded them, the gratuitous pack cuddles are the shit. Derek snorted inelegantly, propping his chin up on Stiles' shoulder and nuzzling against the younger man's cheek, stubble catching slightly but finally quietening him. "Such a puppy." It was either an accusation or a term of endearment, Derek wasn't quite sure, but he let out another playful growl anyway, low and quiet in Stiles' ear- just to feel his chest shake with silent laughter.

"I do something nice for you and you do nothing but harass me. See if I ever do anything for you ever again." Derek grumbled, grin hidden against Stiles' throat. Stiles' retort was broken by a sleepy yawn, and he shushed Derek- as if Derek was the loud one here- turning his eyes to the sunrise and leaning against Derek's cheek in return.

The sun rose slowly, lazily, orange and yellow and pink sunbeams kissing the grass and reflecting on the sharp lines of the Camaro before creeping up over the dozing pair gently, as if even the sun didn't want to ruin the peaceful moment. It wasn't until the birds started chirping and singing all around that Derek yawned and stretched, the movements startling Stiles who'd been half asleep against him in the pale light. "C'mon, pup. You look like you need to go to bed." Stiles scoffed, because Derek looked just as tired as he felt, but refrained from making a snarky comment.

Stiles slid off the hood with all the grace of a newborn deer, stumbling to his feet with a face splitting yawn. "Doing nothing shouldn't be this tiring." He grumbled under his breath, padding around to the passenger seat and flopping into it.

Derek rubbed at his eyes as he dropped into the driver's seat, paying twice as much attention to the road and usual to the road and enjoying the soft silence that curled around them. The reason behind the silence became much clearer when he parked outside the Stilinski house, looking over at Stiles as he heard a soft snore. He didn't bother waking the sleeping Stiles up, just opened the door and scooped him up bridal style. "Sometimes I swear you're a toddler." He muttered affectionately, nuzzling at Stiles' hair as the younger man automatically curled closer.

It was no mean feat getting Stiles' keys and unlocking the door without dropping him- thank god for werewolf strength- but after a few tries, Derek managed to get the door open so he could carry Stiles upstairs.

Getting Stiles into bed was even more difficult than the door because, unsurprisingly, half asleep Stiles was sulky and uncooperative. Derek absolutely did not find it adorable. With a little persuasion, and a lot of manhandling, Stiles was finally tucked up in bed, giving Derek a lazy grin. "You're such a handful." Derek muttered, leaning down and nuzzling against Stiles' temple.

Really it showed how much time Stiles had spent as pack when the human didn't bat an eyelid at the remarkably wolfish gesture, just leaned up, sleeping scenting Derek's cheek. "You love it."

Derek paused for a moment, eyes soft as he pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do." There was something under the words, something unspoken but definitely not unheard.

Stiles lifted his hand, curling it in the hem of the jacket Derek had only just put back on. The jacket that smelled of Stiles and Derek and happiness. That smelled right. Like home and safe and something Derek had been waiting for forever but had never dared to hope he could associate with Stiles. "Stay?" Stiles' voice was soft and hopeful and fogged by sleep and Derek couldn't say no but he _shouldn't _stay. He shook his head silently, gently pulling Stiles' hand away. Something in Stiles' expression hardened, turning bright and brave under the tiredness. He caught Derek's jacket again, hauling him back down and brushing their lips together before he lost the courage and lost this perfect, perfect moment.

God knows how long they stayed like that, each second stretching out to a millennia, but just as Stiles was about to bottle it and pull away with an apology and an excuse of tiredness, Derek moved. Not much, just the tiniest tilt of his head, just enough to part his lips, inviting Stiles closer without thinking. The first brush of tongues was slow, tentative, Derek's hand coming up to Stiles' jaw as he pulled away before it could get too far. Well, pulled back just enough for their lips to part, foreheads resting together as the wolf dragged his fingertips up Stiles' jaw to tap his cheek lightly. "Sti-" was as far as he got before Stiles interrupted him with a firm voice.

"Stay." It wasn't a question, so Derek stopped trying to say no. He pressed a barely there kiss to Stiles' lips, unable to resist the way Stiles looked like he'd been lit up from the inside- like the stars he loved were colliding inside him and starlight was running through his veins.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Derek breathed, kicking off his shoes and shucking off the jacket yet again. He slid between Stiles and the wall, arms wrapping around the younger man and pulling him close. One4 hand crept up to splay over Stiles' heart, the other linking with Stiles' and resting over his hip. "Sleep, Stiles." He murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Stiles' shoulder.

There was no hesitation as Stiles curled back into Derek's arms, squeezing his hand and closing his eyes. "Bu-" It was Derek's turn to interrupt now, speaking over Stiles, his voice firm and steady with no small amount of amused affection. "We'll talk when you wake up. Sleep."

Stiles had a thousand questions. He wanted to know what the kiss meant, wanted to know if it meant what he hoped it did, and he wanted to know if the emotions bubbling up in the pit of his stomach were all in his head or if Derek could feel them too. But he was warm, and tired, and Stiles felt safe with Derek's arms wrapped around him and sleeping seemed none of the hardship it had once seemed. There was a low laugh against the back of his neck, a soft kiss and a murmur of "_Sleep." _

So he did.


End file.
